The Fifth Horseman
by Lukiss
Summary: Four theives, all perfect strangers set up for the heist of their lives. Literally. In the grand tradition of Reservoir Dogs. R
1. Introduction, Welcome to Tony's Deli

The Fifth Horseman  
  
  
  
They were given authority over a quarter of the earth, to kill with sword, famine, and plague, and by means of the beasts of the earth.  
  
Revelation 6:8  
  
"Tony's Deli serves the best pasta in Liberty" That's what the sign says outside. Today it would serve a somewhat different purpose. Today it would be a meeting place.  
  
Tony's Deli was not a classy joint. It had not been renovated since circa 1971, it was far to old to be modern, yet a little too crummy to be considered retro. It stood by the tried and true tradition of red and white checkered tablecloths, although it only had four tables to adorn. Tony's was filled with the pervasive stench of greasy hoagies, the kind that chokes the lungs. On its walls were pictures of high school classes, lovingly donated by students who got their first drink at the dive.  
  
As a result of its cheap food, and less than strict drinking policy, Tony's had grown to become a part of growing up to most of the local punks. There were no punks today, a bright Saturday. 


	2. Meeting the Horseman

White arrived first.  
  
He pulled into the garbage-ridden parking lot. Carefully dodging the larger pieces of litter, determined not to damage his expensive, cream-colored Sentinel. He parked close to the front door of Tony's, knowing that no common thug would dare to touch his ride. He stepped out of his car, slowly and deliberately, acting as if some unseen movie camera was always watching him.  
  
White was of medium build, he worked out some, but not to the extreme. His brown hair and tan blended well with his beautiful cream colored suit. His chiseled face was his bargaining chip, providing the kind of first shot that was usually enough for most ladies. Of course, if the face didn't get them, the voice always did. His deep, projecting voice was the envoy for his greatest weapon of all. White was funny, witty, insightful, he was an orator. He dealt with words, he liked guns too, but the ability to remove threats without killing them was, in his mind, invaluable.  
  
He slowly pushed open the door to Tony's Deli, making an entrance. He knew that the others had yet to arrive, but first impressions only come once.  
  
He stifled a frown as he surveyed the deli. A dump, thought White. He managed to turn his frown around to a cocky smile as his eyes met with a pretty waitress. She was blond and blue eyed, the quintessential southern girl. She was young too, probably dropped out of high school. She was lucky to be waitressing, there were a lot of other jobs for pretty young dropouts. Of course, the way most restaurant owners acted, maybe she wasn't so lucky…  
  
White was here for business, he knew that, but he was having a tough time focusing on the job as he headed for the back corner table, the designated meeting table. Apparently the waitress was having some problems too, she tracked him intently with her eyes, following each of his strides intently. Game, set, match, thought White. She was young though…. Well, what the hell, thought White, if there's grass on the field, play ball, right? And if there wasn't? Well then go around back and play in the mud…  
  
At that thought, White had to struggle to keep in a chuckle. The waitress approached him, slowly, trying to make a show of her own.  
  
"Can I get you something… sir?" She asked  
  
"I'd imagine you could sweetie," White responded.  
  
"Now, what might that be…?"  
  
"How's the peach pie here?" White asked, "It looked tasty."  
  
The waitress licked her lips. "That's what I hear…"  
  
"Yummy"  
  
"It's real hot though… I have one in the back, maybe you could come back and help me get it…" The waitress said suggestively.  
  
"I'm not one to turn down a lady…" White responded, masking his eagerness.  
  
The door to Tony's Deli swung wide open, preemptively interrupting the two. A man in a red suit swiftly walked in. As the door swung closed, White observed a big red Bobcat parked dangerously close to his own Sentinel.  
  
The man was a giant of sorts, about 6'7'', easily eclipsing White. Red was muscular also, his tremendous biceps bulging as his arms swung in full stride. His face carried a substantial scar, still in its healing phases, running straight down from his left ear, stopping just before the neck. His eyes were bloodshot, although it appeared as if the man was perfectly comfortable, implying his eyes were usually in that state. His large, square-shaped head was adorned with a thin layer of brown hair, formed into a crew cut. He looked pissed as hell.  
  
"That's a big motherfucker," White whispered to himself.  
  
Apparently the waitress heard, letting out a slight giggle.  
  
"What in my holy fuck are you laughing at bitch?" Red's voice overflowed with anger.  
  
"I'm-"  
  
"It's cool, take it down a notch there cap'n," White interceded.  
  
"No names, right?" Asked Red.  
  
"Yeah"  
  
"Then I'm Red."  
  
"White."  
  
"Where the fuck are the others?" Red demanded.  
  
This guy was off his rocker, White decided. The question remained whether or not that could jeopardize the mission. Probably would. "I don't know, there probably on their way, okay? Sit down."  
  
Red consented, nearly tearing the backrest off his chair as he pulled it from under the table.  
  
"I guess the pie's gonna have to wait," said the waitress with a hint of sorrow.  
  
"Sorry, I think you might want to be heading out too baby," responded White, also a little let down. The waitress made her way to the kitchen, realizing that it was best she not be an accessory to whatever the men were planning.  
  
"Fuckin no, I want some pie!" Red exclaimed, seeming a little childish in White's mind.  
  
"Look, forget the damn pie," White commanded, "did you bring you piece of the plan?"  
  
Each member of the squad was issued a part of the plan by their employer. This way, none of them would know enough to sell the others out before the job went down. None of them had met their employer face to face. The plans came in the mail, to secure boxes. Couldn't be too careful these days. They all knew that was for the best. They wanted to do it professionally.  
  
White's part detailed the security system of wherever they were going to hit. It should be easy enough, White thought, based on the security. It was nothing more than a couple of old rent-a-cops, probably carrying nothing more than some old service revolvers. Easy easy.  
  
"Yeah, I got it," Red said as he reached into his breast pocket. He quickly removed a medium-sized manila envelope, nearly tearing it in the process. Red opened the envelope with a little more care, reaching into it and extracting a map and a short letter.  
  
"Safehouse," Red said, surprisingly businesslike. An old, run-down schoolhouse would act as the men's safe haven. Giving them shelter from The Man.  
  
As the two men looked over the map and inspected the letter, memorizing the address, the door swung open again. Before the door could swing closed, it was forced open again.  
  
Two men walked in slowly, not together, but only yards apart, their feet in opposite step. In front was a man wearing a very cheap looking green suit. His eyes were sunken, his skin pale. His deep black hair seemed to grow in patches, shooting out at impossible angles. His teeth, endlessly bared behind his seemingly unretractable upper lip, were a shade of yellow, somewhere near piss. Green, White presumed.  
  
Behind him followed a man wearing an Italian black suit. His eyes were nearly all black, whether that was drug-induced or not, White did not know. The man's skin was white as a cloud, nearing albino. The man's face betrayed nothing, he was marble. His deep black hair gave him a penguinish look, but his demeanor clearly showed that Black was not a man to be fucked with. The two men swiftly approached the corner table.  
  
"Howdy," greeted White, "you two come together?  
  
"What, me, with him? No way man, no way. --name's Green by the way-- I came by myself. See that sweet baby, that's me," Green replied with a mousy voice as he pointed out the window to a beat up Green Rumpo. Parked next to the Rumpo was a beautiful black on black Stinger, presumably Black's.  
  
"Good, thought you two fuckers were fags for a second there," Red interjected.  
  
"No. Black." Black replied flatly.  
  
"Well good for you," said White. He couldn't figure out Black. For all he knew, Black was the devil himself. "Well gentlemen, shall we get down to business then?" Said White.  
  
"Hey baby, despite my name I ain't green baby, I'm ex-per-ia-nced! I'll rock your world baby!" Green shouted to the waitress across the room.  
  
"Focus." Said White, "look, I'm sure we all won't like each other, I don't know about you guys, but I like to get paid. So if we could all get out our piece of the plan, it might help stuff get started."  
  
"Agreed," Black said, settling the matter. 


	3. The Ride

Green carefully maneuvered his big green Rumpo through traffic.  
  
Riding shotgun next to him was White, Mr. Debonair. Green despised people like him, all talk, no walk. Well that didn't matter so much anyway, all that mattered now was the job. Green had to correctly execute the plan.  
  
In the back of the van sat Black and Red, sitting opposite each other. Black seemed to be calmly composing himself, his eyes shut, deep breaths being inhaled and exhaled. Black scared the shit out of Green. What is this guy? Thought Green, he looks like he's out of a movie. Across the van, Red's preparation was a different story. He sat there, checking and rechecking his .357 Magnum, muttering, "let's do this shit."  
  
"What was that?" Asked White  
  
"Nothing, just getting ready man," Red replied.  
  
"What the hell's that? Asked White as he pointed at Red's large combat knife.  
  
"It's my baby," Red said, "don't fuckin make fun of her, she's real good at making pretty fuckers like you bleed."  
  
"Yeah, well if we get to the point that you have to start knifing people, we're all probably going to do some bleeding."  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
"So how are you doing?" Asked White, steering the conversation away from Red to Green .  
  
This guy talks too much, thought Green. "I'm good. Just thinkin about the plan, man. Just thinkin about the plan." Green was. Every thought not interrupted by this White fellow was spent on the plan. Green had to be perfect in his execution if he wanted to live until tomorrow. If he slipped up once, the other guys would be all over him. He had to make sure he knew everything.  
  
According to the final assembled plan, they were hitting Carl's Jewelbox, an upscale jewelry store in Bedford Point. Their goal was to steal a metal briefcase from the vault there. According to the plan, the briefcase contained a ruby whose estimated value hung in the range of five million. The plan was simple, White would go in first to confirm that the bank manager was in (only when the manger has input the correct password can the bank mainframe be accessed, something done whenever the manger signs in for the day). Once it was clear that the manger was in, the rest would storm the bank. White and Black would secure the vault entrance while Green would access the mainframe computer and open the vault. Red would hold the bank entrance, and ensure that none of the security guards tried anything. Once Green opened the vault, Black would grab the case, and they would all run back to the van. Then they would drive to the safehouse and await the arrival of the employer. Only their mystery man and the bank owner had the access code to open the briefcase. Once the employer arrived, he would pay them each their cut and sell the ruby on the black market.  
  
"So why did you get into this business?" Inquired White.  
  
There he goes, goddamn talking again, thought Green, oh well, better be nice to him. "Well uh, I was first a hacker you know, little shit, ya know uh, e-mail fraud and shit, but I learned its pretty fuckin hard to pay the bills with money that doesn't really exist, ya know? So I needed to get some real green, ya know?"  
  
"Yeah, I got you. You don't seem like the real hardcore killer type, unlike our friends there in the back, you seem like a nice enough fellow."  
  
Green was caught off guard. What do you say to that? "Thanks… You?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," replied White, as if he was reminiscing about the past, "this world, this city, they make it so hard you. They've kicked out all the middle rungs of the ladder. You're rich or poor, smart or dumb. I wasn't born rich, so I was born poor. But I wasn't born dumb. I learned that, in this world, there are predators, and there are prey, and if you want to make it, you sure as hell had better be the predator."  
  
…and I'd like to thank the academy, thought Green. Yeah right. "I hear you man, I hear you, it is tough…"  
  
"Hey Greenie, fuckin stop talkin to your fuckin boyfriend. Carl's is the next block up faggo," yelled Red. 


	4. The Bank

Red sat waiting in the van, adrenaline, his dearest friend coursing through his veins.  
  
Oh motherfucker, though Red, fuckin this shit's gonna be great. He watched as White slowly exited the van and walked into the bank. Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin I hate that motherfucker, thought Red. He's just such a fuckin prick! Look at him walk on up to that teller. Fuckin he thinks that just because it's a lady, that she's gonna fuck him, Red's mind raced. Fuckin he should be glad he's workin with me, fuckin I'm the King Kong FuckMaster, thought Red.  
  
White carried on a quick conversation with the teller, but the bank's glass walls made it impossible for Red to hear what White was saying.  
  
"Fuckin what's takin him so long?" Demanded Red.  
  
"Patience," Black urged.  
  
"Wait, there it is, that was it, right, that was the sign, right?" Exclaimed Green as White slammed his fist on the teller's counter.  
  
"Let's go." Said Black.  
  
The three men burst out of the van, each carrying a pistol. They charged into the bank, knocking down a few women as they entered.  
  
"Yippy aye kay yei motherfuckers!" Red screamed. "All of you dirty fuckers get the fuck on the ground. And as for you bastards, I have no fucking problem with downsizing your fuckin faces," Yelled Red as he motioned for the security guards to lay down on the ground.  
  
Green quickly hopped over the teller's counter and made his way to the back of the bank, where the manager's office was located.  
  
White took his time, opening a small, saloon gate fixed to the teller's counter.  
  
"After you," White said as he motioned for Black to proceed into the bank.  
  
"Thanks," said Black dryly.  
  
"Looks like you fuckers get the pleasure of hanging out with me for a little bit, ain't that fuckin cool?" Said Red maniacally, now the only robber in the bank lobby.  
  
One of the security guards slowly moved his hand towards his gun belt, trying to act stealthily.  
  
"Fuckin is your name John Wayne?" Yelled Red to the security guard.  
  
"No," he replied.  
  
"Ding ding ding, your fuckin right it's not," yelled Red as he leveled his Magnum at the guard, and shot him square in the chest.  
  
"Anymore fuckin heros?"  
  
"Red, what the hell was that?" Yelled White from the vault enterance.  
  
"Nothing, just keeping this fuckers in line," Red yelled back.  
  
"Well fuckin stop shooting them!"  
  
"What?" Red yelled back as he nonchalantly shot one more security guard point blank in the head. "I must have misheard you, did you say, 'kill those fuckers?' Cause I can sure as hell do that, right fucker?" Red aimed his gun at an old man and squeezed off another round.  
  
"Fuck man!" White screamed, "What the fuck did I just tell you? And where the fuck is Green, this is taking a helluva lot longer than he said!"  
  
Just then, the sound of the vault clicking open filled the bank.  
  
"Sorry about that," Green's voice rang out, "took a little longer than expected."  
  
"Grab it Black!" Yelled White. "Good, let's get the hell out of here."  
  
Red turned away from the people, looking to the back of the bank.  
  
"Fuckin you got it?"  
  
"Yeah," Black replied calmly as he passed through the saloon gate, briefcase in hand.  
  
"Let's roll," said White, trailing behind Black.  
  
"Jesus man, there's fuckin blood everywhere, what did you do?" Asked Green as he appeared, entering the bank's lobby.  
  
"Just took care of business," Red replied.  
  
A young blonde next to one of the fallen security guards saw her chance. With the manic in the red suit distracted, maybe she could take one of them out. Maybe she could save the day. She quickly reached for the guard's gun, removing it from its holster. She raised it quickly, firing off one quick shot at the man in the green suit.  
  
BANG  
  
The bullet connected with Green's stomach, tearing through his skin, lodging itself in his small intestines. His stomach bile began to leak out, slowly poisoning the rest of his body.  
  
"Fuck!" Yelled White as he quickly put four rounds into the woman's chest. "Fuck you Red! I thought you fuckin had this shit under control!"  
  
"How the fuck was I supposed to know she had a gun?" Red retorted.  
  
"Oh shit man, oh shit, oh fuck. Fuckin I'm bleeding man, fuck! She fucking shot me, fuck! Fuckin my plan, fuck! I'm fucked, we're all fucked!" Cried Green as he clutched his gut-wound.  
  
"It doesn't matter now, take him with us if you want, we need to leave," said Black calmly.  
  
White reached down, picking up the smaller Green and putting him over his shoulder.  
  
"Let me fuckin help you," said Red.  
  
"You've fuckin helped enough, I got him," said White.  
  
The men scurried out to the van, Black climbed into the driver's seat, Red entered the passenger's side, while White put Green into the back and jumped in with him.  
  
"Go! Go! Go!" Yelled White.  
  
Black peeled out, heading straight for the safehouse, hoping that there were no cops in the area 


	5. The Safehouse

Black was pleased.  
  
He sat wordless, driving the van. All was silent, at least in his mind. He found he could do that, just tune everyone out, make it silent. He liked the silence. The bank job had gone fairly well, of course it was unfortunate that Green had been shot, but things could have been worse. Then there was Red. Red seemed to think it would be fun to slaughter some people. He killed, what? Three, maybe four people? It didn't matter. No harm done, at least not to the mission. So Black just kept driving the van.  
  
"Black!"  
  
It was White.  
  
"Black!" White repeated.  
  
"Yes?" Black finally replied.  
  
"Stop the car, we're here!"  
  
Black stopped the car, White was right, they were at the safehouse. It was a poor little school, or at least it had been. Black estimated that it had not been used for education in at least six years.  
  
"Hurry the fuck up man!"  
  
This time it was Red. Red was annoying, thought Black.  
  
"I'm coming," said Black.  
  
The group pushed their way into one of the abandoned classrooms. It was nearly empty, the only reminder that it had even been a school was the dingy green chalkboard. Even the old desks had all been moved out. Off white tiles formed the floor of the fairly large classroom.  
  
Black placed the briefcase near the center of the room. That would make everyone a little more comfortable, the ability to see their paycheck so clearly.  
  
Black watched as White carried the wounded Green to one side of the room and set him down on the floor.  
  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna die! All that fuckin money. Fuckin a king's ransom, and I'll die before I fuckin get a cent," Green yelled.  
  
"Cool out man, you aren't going to die, we just got to wait till our employer comes, and we'll all be fine, okay?" White tried to comfort Green.  
  
"Fuck you! Fuckin there is no employer, he's not coming! We're all gonna die, I'm gonna die, you're gonna die, Black's gonna die, Red too! Fuckin all of us!" Green was screaming now.  
  
"Why don't you just shut the fuck up okay," Red yelled back, "fuckin I don't neeed the fuckin stress right the fuck now, okay?"  
  
"Oh, you don't need the fuckin stress huh? I FUCKIN GOT SHOT! THERE"S FUCKIN STRESS FOR YOU! I'M FUCKIN GONNA DIE BECAUSE YOU'RE A FUCKIN MORON!" Screamed Green.  
  
"You better watch your fuckin little mouth," roared Red, "just cause you're a little pussy doesn't fuckin mean you can yell at me motherfucker!" Red began to close in on the bleeding Green.  
  
Black was endlessly amused.  
  
"Fuckin you leave him the fuck alone," White interjected, "we're fuckin gonna wait for the employer, then we're gonna get you a doctor Green. Just everyone cool the fuck out!"  
  
At this, Red turned around, slowly walking away from Green.  
  
"Yeah, fuck you Red! You fucking mood-swinging motherfucker. It was a perfect fucking plan! You fuck head, how the fuck could you be so fucking stupid?" Green's voice was cracking now, his wound was really getting to him.  
  
"This is how," Red said as he quickly turned around and shot Green, killing him.  
  
Things just got interesting, thought Black.  
  
Whtie immediately drew his piece and put three rounds into Red's chest and stomach  
  
"Arggh!" Yelled Red as he fell to the floor.  
  
White quickly walked over to Green to check if he was really dead. Upon conformation, White slowly walked back towards the case, eyeing Black. For a moment the two stood there, simply watching each other. Then the both drew, leveling guns to each other's head.  
  
"No one has to die today Black."  
  
"I'd say we're already past that."  
  
"We can both walk away, split it fifty-fifty."  
  
"Did you know, my dear White, that I have not missed a target in five years?"  
  
"I didn't know that Black." As White spoke, he stepped backward, slipping in the growing pool of Green's blood. Falling backward, White did the only thing he could do, he shot. Black too squeezed his trigger, sending a bullet to White. For a single instant, both bullets passed each other. Then that moment ended.  
  
White's bullet miraculously flew true, finding its way to the chest of Black, puncturing one of his lungs and sending him gasping for air, flying backwards.  
  
Black's bullet was not so true, passing within an inch of White's face, yet only scratching it.  
  
Black landed with a thud, up against one of the schoolhouse's walls. His body was propped up, allowing him to watch his enemy as his life slowly drained away.  
  
"Sorry Blackie," said White.  
  
Black watched him slowly rise. Black watched him walk victoriously towards the briefcase. Out of the corner of his eye, Black saw Red struggle to his feet, knife in hand.  
  
Isn't this interesting? Thought Black.  
  
Red, using the last of his strength, charged White, catching him off guard. Red tackled White, bringing the fight down to the blood-soaked floor. Black watched as Red ruthlessly raked White's handsome face with the knife, pieces of the once beautiful man were being torn off. Black watched as White fired one last shot into the chest of Red in desperation. But Red would not be stopped, he continued to cut White's face into ribbons, hacking off his nose and puncturing his eyes, sending retinal fluid streaming out of the sockets. Whites screamed. But his cry was short lived as Red finally plunged his knife into White's exposed throat. Blood spewed from the great wound, and White emitted a last death gurgle before he passed.  
  
Red slowly rose, very near death himself. He stumbled closer and closer to the briefcase, yet before he could touch it, he tripped, falling just short of the prize. His wounds had finally caught up with him, and his life was no more.  
  
With his final breath, Black surveyed the red classroom. Blood covered its walls and formed lakes on its floor. Spent shell casings were boats in the Red Sea, floating around as they may. And finally there were the bodies. Sprawled out like vast continents of the world of death, they were the centerpieces to the gruesome scene. Then Black faded to Black. 


	6. Epilogue... (the crazy "what-if" scenari...

Eddy and Tom were the detectives assigned to figuring out the "Color Robbery"  
  
As they stepped into the blood-covered schoolhouse, their noses were hit with the unmistakable stench of blood.  
  
"Fuck me!" Eddy exclaimed.  
  
"Jesus these fuckers sure went to town," commented Tom.  
  
"You're tellin me. Just look at this place, these fuckers just butchered each other."  
  
"Damn, check out that guy's face. Look's like he stuck it in a blender."  
  
"This shit is terrible, I'm gonna be sick," Eddy said, feeling queasy.  
  
"Naw, these fuckers got what they deserved, did you see the bank? One of these fuckers, maybe the red one, just started shootin people, for no good reason."  
  
"They all look pretty red to me man."  
  
"True."  
  
"Hey, I got the code to the briefcase, almost forgot. The bank owner sent it to us after it went down, said that it didn't matter that we had it," Tom said.  
  
"Let's open this mother up."  
  
Tom reached down and input the code into the briefcase's keypad. The distinct click of locks opening proved that the code was correct. Tom opened the case, revealing a crystal snowglobe.  
  
"This is what those bastards massacred each other over, a fucking snowglobe?" Eddy was in disbelief.  
  
"Something tells me they didn't know that."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Well, fuck 'em anyway, they got what they deserved."  
  
"Yeah, case closed. You want a drink? I'm buying."  
  
"Sure."  
  
So the case was indeed closed.  
  
But if they hadn't closed the case, and delved a little further, then maybe they might have found the men's "secure mailboxes."  
  
And maybe, with the box information, they might have tracked down who sent the plans.  
  
Maybe they might have found out that a man named Kyle Greenspan sent the plans.  
  
Maybe they could have tracked down Mr. Greenspan by his motor vehicle registration, a green Rumpo.  
  
Maybe they might have realized that, on that one fateful day in the bank, the mainframe's connection to the electronic accounts had been activated.  
  
Maybe they would have noticed that $100 million had been taken and put into a Swiss account.  
  
Maybe, just maybe, they might have realized that not everything was as it seemed.  
  
And, most importantly, maybe they could have understood that the fifth horseman, the great destroyer that will finally erase mankind, is Greed.  
  
Maybe they could have seen the irony in the fact that this "fifth horseman", the Grand Marshall of man's parade into Hell so proudly shouts:  
  
"In God We Trust." 


End file.
